Clark Hays's Blog - Posts Tagged "whiskey"
Smackdown: Big cities vs. small towns
Kathleen and I wrote this for the For The Love of Reading Blog run by Niina, a fantastic book blogger in Finland and a Goodreadsian.
Blood and Whiskey, the second book in The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series, captures the best and worst of rural and urban living.
In Blood and Whiskey, (Pumpjack Press, May 1, 2012 ), Tucker and Lizzie once again find themselves marooned in tiny LonePine, Wyoming, battling the maddening aspects of small town life (at least for Lizzie) and the murderous international intrigues of sophisticated, highly urban vampires (according to Tucker, the worst kind of city slickers).
One of our favorite things about writing for these characters, and the tensions between cowboys and vampires, is the “opposites attract” relationship of Tucker and Lizzie. Tucker has spent his entire life in LonePine (population 438, with one on the way), with the notable exception of a fevered trip to New York when Lizzie was kidnapped (you’ll have to read The Cowboy and the Vampire: A Darkly Romantic Thriller for more). The evil vampires anxious to kill her and drain his blood were almost as bad as the crowds of people, bumper to bumper traffic on endless paved streets and rows of skyscrapers blocking the view.
Lizzie, on the other hand, grew up in New York and loves the hustle and bustle, the art and culture, the pace and energy and the international melting pot of people. She traveled to LonePine, a wasteland by her cultural standards, to research an article about the dying west. After falling for Tucker, she stays. And while she loves the clean air and wide-open spaces, she hasn’t quite adjusted to small — really small — town life. The highway truck stop is the only place to eat in town, the only play they have is put on by the fourth grade class during the holidays and the library is the same size as the drive-thru espresso shack.
Despite that, Tucker and Lizzie appreciate what’s special and different about the other and that’s what helps keep them together and keeps their relationship strong despite some serious obstacles including, at least in Blood and Whiskey, a price on Lizzie head and a scheming vampire world pushed to the edge of extinction.
That part of their relationship, east meets west, is drawn directly from our own lives.
Whitehall, Montana, meet Washington, DC
Our early years could not have been more different. Kathleen grew up in the very heart of Washington, DC, which has a population of more than 600,000 people and is located in a dense urban area of millions. Her childhood home was not far from the Washington Cathedral and just a stone’s throw from Embassy Row. For her, hopping on the metro and wandering through the Smithsonian, reading at the Library of Congress or taking in an exhibit at the Hirshhorn were all in a regular day. She learned to be confident around people and grounded in the history, creativity and learning unique to America’s capital.
Clark grew up on a ranch in Montana, 15 miles from the nearest town, Whitehall, which had about 2,000 people. His childhood home was a stone’s throw from Fish Creek, near a number of historic stage stops and homesteader cabins and was surrounded by a lot of sagebrush. For him, hopping on a horse and riding up into the mountains, reading a good book under apple trees planted by settlers or building fence torn down by elk was all part of a regular day. He learned to be confident in the wilderness and grounded in the history, beauty and tenacity of western living.
We met and fell in love in Portland, Oregon, a small town by Kathleen’s standards and a big city by Clark’s. We’ve lived here for years now and enjoy the best of both worlds. We visit the east coast often to visit Kathleen’s family and load up on art and cultural events, and we visit the remote areas of Oregon — Plush and Steens Mountain — to load up on the stillness and beauty of the wilderness. Plus, we are able to head over to the lovely Oregon coast frequently.
For us, like our characters, opposites really do attract and start to change each other. Kathleen has learned to love the empty spaces and Clark has become a fan of galleries and museums. With that in mind, here are two “top five” lists based on our experiences.
A city girl’s top five reasons to love small towns:
1) The views are spectacular, especially when there are mountains involved.
2) Clean air and no traffic.
3) Fewer lights make for beautiful starry skies at night.
4) Friendly people — everybody waves at everybody in western towns and really care about how your day is going.
5) There are no distractions for reading and writing.
A country boy’s top five reasons to love big cities:
1) History — especially on the east coast, you can visit buildings that have been standing for two or three hundred years. I know that has nothing on the historical cities of Europe, but for me, it’s old.
2) Art — I love all the shows and museums and galleries, even the ones I don’t really get (which is most of them).
3) Great food — there’s nothing wrong with small town restaurants, but eating at the drive-in every week gets a little old compared to Thai, Indian, Vietnamese, Greek, etc.
4) Interesting people — sometimes really interesting, like you cannot look away they are so interesting.
5) Bookstores. And good coffee.
Read Blood and Whiskey to find out even more about the difference between small towns and big cities, opposites attract romantic tension — it doesn’t get much more opposite than a human and a vampire falling in love — and thrill-a-minute action. As Lizzie comes to terms with being undead, she has difficult choices ahead that will make Tucker far more uncomfortable than learning how to hail a taxi. And of course, their enemies are going to make it difficult for true love to last beyond the next sunset.
Blood and Whiskey, the second book in The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series, captures the best and worst of rural and urban living.
In Blood and Whiskey, (Pumpjack Press, May 1, 2012 ), Tucker and Lizzie once again find themselves marooned in tiny LonePine, Wyoming, battling the maddening aspects of small town life (at least for Lizzie) and the murderous international intrigues of sophisticated, highly urban vampires (according to Tucker, the worst kind of city slickers).
One of our favorite things about writing for these characters, and the tensions between cowboys and vampires, is the “opposites attract” relationship of Tucker and Lizzie. Tucker has spent his entire life in LonePine (population 438, with one on the way), with the notable exception of a fevered trip to New York when Lizzie was kidnapped (you’ll have to read The Cowboy and the Vampire: A Darkly Romantic Thriller for more). The evil vampires anxious to kill her and drain his blood were almost as bad as the crowds of people, bumper to bumper traffic on endless paved streets and rows of skyscrapers blocking the view.
Lizzie, on the other hand, grew up in New York and loves the hustle and bustle, the art and culture, the pace and energy and the international melting pot of people. She traveled to LonePine, a wasteland by her cultural standards, to research an article about the dying west. After falling for Tucker, she stays. And while she loves the clean air and wide-open spaces, she hasn’t quite adjusted to small — really small — town life. The highway truck stop is the only place to eat in town, the only play they have is put on by the fourth grade class during the holidays and the library is the same size as the drive-thru espresso shack.
Despite that, Tucker and Lizzie appreciate what’s special and different about the other and that’s what helps keep them together and keeps their relationship strong despite some serious obstacles including, at least in Blood and Whiskey, a price on Lizzie head and a scheming vampire world pushed to the edge of extinction.
That part of their relationship, east meets west, is drawn directly from our own lives.
Whitehall, Montana, meet Washington, DC
Our early years could not have been more different. Kathleen grew up in the very heart of Washington, DC, which has a population of more than 600,000 people and is located in a dense urban area of millions. Her childhood home was not far from the Washington Cathedral and just a stone’s throw from Embassy Row. For her, hopping on the metro and wandering through the Smithsonian, reading at the Library of Congress or taking in an exhibit at the Hirshhorn were all in a regular day. She learned to be confident around people and grounded in the history, creativity and learning unique to America’s capital.
Clark grew up on a ranch in Montana, 15 miles from the nearest town, Whitehall, which had about 2,000 people. His childhood home was a stone’s throw from Fish Creek, near a number of historic stage stops and homesteader cabins and was surrounded by a lot of sagebrush. For him, hopping on a horse and riding up into the mountains, reading a good book under apple trees planted by settlers or building fence torn down by elk was all part of a regular day. He learned to be confident in the wilderness and grounded in the history, beauty and tenacity of western living.
We met and fell in love in Portland, Oregon, a small town by Kathleen’s standards and a big city by Clark’s. We’ve lived here for years now and enjoy the best of both worlds. We visit the east coast often to visit Kathleen’s family and load up on art and cultural events, and we visit the remote areas of Oregon — Plush and Steens Mountain — to load up on the stillness and beauty of the wilderness. Plus, we are able to head over to the lovely Oregon coast frequently.
For us, like our characters, opposites really do attract and start to change each other. Kathleen has learned to love the empty spaces and Clark has become a fan of galleries and museums. With that in mind, here are two “top five” lists based on our experiences.
A city girl’s top five reasons to love small towns:
1) The views are spectacular, especially when there are mountains involved.
2) Clean air and no traffic.
3) Fewer lights make for beautiful starry skies at night.
4) Friendly people — everybody waves at everybody in western towns and really care about how your day is going.
5) There are no distractions for reading and writing.
A country boy’s top five reasons to love big cities:
1) History — especially on the east coast, you can visit buildings that have been standing for two or three hundred years. I know that has nothing on the historical cities of Europe, but for me, it’s old.
2) Art — I love all the shows and museums and galleries, even the ones I don’t really get (which is most of them).
3) Great food — there’s nothing wrong with small town restaurants, but eating at the drive-in every week gets a little old compared to Thai, Indian, Vietnamese, Greek, etc.
4) Interesting people — sometimes really interesting, like you cannot look away they are so interesting.
5) Bookstores. And good coffee.
Read Blood and Whiskey to find out even more about the difference between small towns and big cities, opposites attract romantic tension — it doesn’t get much more opposite than a human and a vampire falling in love — and thrill-a-minute action. As Lizzie comes to terms with being undead, she has difficult choices ahead that will make Tucker far more uncomfortable than learning how to hail a taxi. And of course, their enemies are going to make it difficult for true love to last beyond the next sunset.
Where the hell is Plush, Oregon?
"Where the hell is Plush, Oregon?"
It’s a question Tucker and his best friend Lenny ask in our new book Blood and Whiskey after they uncover a human trafficking ring in Portland, Oregon. Under extreme duress, one of the bad guys confesses the victims are shipped to Plush where terrible things await them.
We know exactly where Plush is; we went there in 2010 just before The Cowboy and The Vampire was released. I’d read about Plush the year before. It’s the only place in Oregon where you can mine for sunstones, the state gemstone. Sunstone is a type of feldspar that sparkles and catches the light and we wanted to learn more.
Did I mention Kathleen is a geologist?
It’s a long drive from Portland to Plush, about 360 hard miles, and an even larger culture shift. Portland is a small town by some standards, with a population of about half a million. Plush, on the other hand, has about 139 residents on a good day. And good days aren’t that common. It’s smack dab in the middle of nowhere in the best possible sense of the word.
Sagebrush, rocky bluffs, unexpected lakes and hundreds of curious, fleet-footed antelopes. We found deserted hot springs, a haunted sanitarium and plenty of sunstone mines — most operated by deeply-tanned hippies and other drop outs from society living on the edge of the world. It was fantastic.
I can still remember making a tofu and refried bean sandwich, with Roma tomatoes, on the hood of the car, baking in the summer sun, before we sorted through a conveyor belt of pulverized rocks looking for sunstones. And we found many. They are hard to miss because of the way they seem to trap sunlight.
More than gemstones, we found a place to anchor our latest book. Yes, Blood and Whiskey is still set in our favorite small town, fictional LonePine, Wyoming, but we loved Plush so much, we had figure out a way to get our heroes there. Lenny and Tucker track down a band of particularly vicious Vampires who operate a “feedlot” in Plush. But nothing is ever what it seems in The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series.
Along with the unforgettable landscape and the quirky little town, we wanted to do something with the beautiful sunstones as well. Vampires, as we all know, are affected by the sun, so it made sense to give the lovely little gemstones special powers over the undead.
To find out what those powers are, check out Blood and Whiskey. To find out what Plush and the surrounding vicinity looks like, check out our photo album Armchair Tour of Plush and Parts Beyond on Facebook.
It’s a question Tucker and his best friend Lenny ask in our new book Blood and Whiskey after they uncover a human trafficking ring in Portland, Oregon. Under extreme duress, one of the bad guys confesses the victims are shipped to Plush where terrible things await them.
We know exactly where Plush is; we went there in 2010 just before The Cowboy and The Vampire was released. I’d read about Plush the year before. It’s the only place in Oregon where you can mine for sunstones, the state gemstone. Sunstone is a type of feldspar that sparkles and catches the light and we wanted to learn more.
Did I mention Kathleen is a geologist?
It’s a long drive from Portland to Plush, about 360 hard miles, and an even larger culture shift. Portland is a small town by some standards, with a population of about half a million. Plush, on the other hand, has about 139 residents on a good day. And good days aren’t that common. It’s smack dab in the middle of nowhere in the best possible sense of the word.
Sagebrush, rocky bluffs, unexpected lakes and hundreds of curious, fleet-footed antelopes. We found deserted hot springs, a haunted sanitarium and plenty of sunstone mines — most operated by deeply-tanned hippies and other drop outs from society living on the edge of the world. It was fantastic.
I can still remember making a tofu and refried bean sandwich, with Roma tomatoes, on the hood of the car, baking in the summer sun, before we sorted through a conveyor belt of pulverized rocks looking for sunstones. And we found many. They are hard to miss because of the way they seem to trap sunlight.
More than gemstones, we found a place to anchor our latest book. Yes, Blood and Whiskey is still set in our favorite small town, fictional LonePine, Wyoming, but we loved Plush so much, we had figure out a way to get our heroes there. Lenny and Tucker track down a band of particularly vicious Vampires who operate a “feedlot” in Plush. But nothing is ever what it seems in The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series.
Along with the unforgettable landscape and the quirky little town, we wanted to do something with the beautiful sunstones as well. Vampires, as we all know, are affected by the sun, so it made sense to give the lovely little gemstones special powers over the undead.
To find out what those powers are, check out Blood and Whiskey. To find out what Plush and the surrounding vicinity looks like, check out our photo album Armchair Tour of Plush and Parts Beyond on Facebook.
Self-Inflicted Research
Here's something we wrote for the Ramblings From This Chick blog. It's a funny look at a not so funny topic -- the time I almost blew my leg off with a .44 mag.
My one and (hopefully) only experience getting shot.
By Clark Hays (with a lot of help from Kathleen)
In Blood and Whiskey, the second book in The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series, there’s plenty of action. Since cowboys are involved, some of that action involves guns (along with romance and cowboy-on-vampire lust, of course).
But back to the guns. When we write about gunfights, I draw from my past. A former Montana cowboy, I did my share of shooting: targets, fence posts, pop cans, gophers (sorry gophers); I burned through a lot of ammo in those days. And while that’s probably not unique in cowboy country, I can draw from a less common experience for our writing: I’ve been on the receiving end of a six shooter.
A funny thing happened on the way to the prom
I was a junior in high school, Mom and Dad were gone for the weekend and I had a date for the prom. I’d rented a lovely sky blue tuxedo (it was the last one in the store that fit me, size doofus) and I had reservations at the nicest (only) steak house in nearby Butte, Montana.
Before all the festivities began, I took a walk in my 2,000-acre backyard and of course, strapped on a pistol first — a Ruger Blackhawk .44 mag. This was Montana, after all.
I was running down a canyon looking for coyotes to shoot at (not that I could have hit one) when I heard a terrible roar and felt an ugly tug on my leg. I looked down to see a gleaming flash of bone winking out of a gash along my knee, and my calf was scorched and blackened with powder burns. The bone wasn’t visible for long because blood began gushing down my leg, plus my vision got blurry.
The holster I was wearing broke and the gun tumbled out, landed hammer down on a rock and — it was an older model without a hammer guard — ignited the primer and sent a .44 caliber slug slicing alongside my leg. Another quarter of an inch and the bullet would have punched through my knee and I would have bled to death alone in the mountains. And missed the prom.
After the initial shock of just how close I’d come to a terminal mistake, I wrapped a bandana around my leg and hobbled home (after first unloading the stupid gun). I bandaged the wound, disposed of all the evidence and went to the prom.
I don’t remember much about the dance — pretty sure they played Stairway to Heaven — but I remember those sky blue pants had a bloodstain all down one leg by the end of the night. I dropped them off the next morning at the menswear store and never said a word.
Seriously: Do NOT try this at home, or anywhere
I am a big fan of authentic writing, but I cannot recommend taking research to this extreme. Guns are serious business and we treat them like that in our books. Tucker and his friends, like most folks in the west, see guns as tools and don’t invest them with any glorified movie fantasies. Of course, most folks aren’t dealing with bloodthirsty vampires. The undead are almost as scary as a sky blue tuxedo!
My one and (hopefully) only experience getting shot.
By Clark Hays (with a lot of help from Kathleen)
In Blood and Whiskey, the second book in The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series, there’s plenty of action. Since cowboys are involved, some of that action involves guns (along with romance and cowboy-on-vampire lust, of course).
But back to the guns. When we write about gunfights, I draw from my past. A former Montana cowboy, I did my share of shooting: targets, fence posts, pop cans, gophers (sorry gophers); I burned through a lot of ammo in those days. And while that’s probably not unique in cowboy country, I can draw from a less common experience for our writing: I’ve been on the receiving end of a six shooter.
A funny thing happened on the way to the prom
I was a junior in high school, Mom and Dad were gone for the weekend and I had a date for the prom. I’d rented a lovely sky blue tuxedo (it was the last one in the store that fit me, size doofus) and I had reservations at the nicest (only) steak house in nearby Butte, Montana.
Before all the festivities began, I took a walk in my 2,000-acre backyard and of course, strapped on a pistol first — a Ruger Blackhawk .44 mag. This was Montana, after all.
I was running down a canyon looking for coyotes to shoot at (not that I could have hit one) when I heard a terrible roar and felt an ugly tug on my leg. I looked down to see a gleaming flash of bone winking out of a gash along my knee, and my calf was scorched and blackened with powder burns. The bone wasn’t visible for long because blood began gushing down my leg, plus my vision got blurry.
The holster I was wearing broke and the gun tumbled out, landed hammer down on a rock and — it was an older model without a hammer guard — ignited the primer and sent a .44 caliber slug slicing alongside my leg. Another quarter of an inch and the bullet would have punched through my knee and I would have bled to death alone in the mountains. And missed the prom.
After the initial shock of just how close I’d come to a terminal mistake, I wrapped a bandana around my leg and hobbled home (after first unloading the stupid gun). I bandaged the wound, disposed of all the evidence and went to the prom.
I don’t remember much about the dance — pretty sure they played Stairway to Heaven — but I remember those sky blue pants had a bloodstain all down one leg by the end of the night. I dropped them off the next morning at the menswear store and never said a word.
Seriously: Do NOT try this at home, or anywhere
I am a big fan of authentic writing, but I cannot recommend taking research to this extreme. Guns are serious business and we treat them like that in our books. Tucker and his friends, like most folks in the west, see guns as tools and don’t invest them with any glorified movie fantasies. Of course, most folks aren’t dealing with bloodthirsty vampires. The undead are almost as scary as a sky blue tuxedo!
Zombie Sex
Zombie versus vampire: Who’s better in the bedroom?
Note: Here's a little something we wrote for the Cocktails and Books blog.
When it comes to paranormal fiction, vampires and zombies are hot. Vampires have been with us for centuries in myths and legends and for about 200 years in their current incarnation, thanks to Poliodori and later, Bram Stoker. Zombies are, by comparison, relative new comers; the current iteration only dates back to the late 1960s and Romero’s Night of the Living Dead. But despite their shambling footsteps, they seem to be everywhere these days — movies, books, graphic novels, corporate America.
The one place zombies are conspicuously absent? Romantic leads.
You won’t find any zombies in our books, The Cowboy and the Vampire: A Darkly Romantic Mystery and Blood and Whiskey, but not because we have anything against the living dead. It’s just that they don’t really lend themselves to romance or even erotic horror. Cowboys are almost too easy with their muscles, rough hands, gentle hearts and tight blue jeans. There’s a strong case to be made for cowgirls, too. And vampires have been steaming up the pages ever since Dracula caused Lucy to get all tingly inside and the sexy vampire sisters got all up in Jonathan Harkers’ libido.
Sultry vampires, the bad boys and girls of the paranormal world, are far more conflicted, sexy and fun to work with than the current headliner — zombies. Here’s a quick run down of pluses and minuses of sexing up vampires and zombies:
-- Vampires have coffin breath and eternal bed-head. (Minus one for the undead.)
-- Zombies want you for your brains, not your body. (Plus one for the living dead.)
-- Vampires have voracious sexual appetites and the males have what we like to call “resur-erections” — they can come back from the dead again and again. (Plus one for the vampires. Make that plus two.)
-- Zombies are into the group thing – the ménage a trARRGGGGGGRRRHHHH. (Uhm, let’s say group sex is neutral.)
-- After a wild night, vampires don’t mind disappearing during the day to give you a little space. (Vampires, plus one.)
-- When zombies slip you a little tongue, you can keep it. (Ewww, minus one.)
-- Vampires leave you feeling drained, usually not in the good way. (Neutral; it’s totally worth it.)
-- Zombies have unintentionally removable appendages. That can be … awkward. (Minus one.)
-- Vampires are experienced in the ways of seduction and dark arts of pleasure. (Plus one, unless you are the jealous type, which we are, so probably minus one.)
-- Zombies tend to have much shorter life spans and forget even the basic moves, like lights out/missionary. (Minus one; shake it up a little zombies.)
-- Vampires clean up well and you can take them almost anywhere, except on a lunchtime picnic where they would likely burst into flames. (Plus one except for when they ignite, then it’s minus two.)
-- Zombies are putrefying hulks of rotting flesh and no amount of body spray can cover up that smell. (Minus one.)
If you tally it all up, you can see why vampires make it into the bedrooms of so many unsuspecting victims while zombies are left on the outside looking in ... often through the window with a bunch of their pals, groaning and leaving bloody, chunky streaks on the glass. That’s not sexy. Someone has to clean that up.
For more ... tasteful sex scenes, check out our latest book, Blood and Whiskey. You won't find any zombies, but there are plenty of sexy vampires.
Note: Here's a little something we wrote for the Cocktails and Books blog.
When it comes to paranormal fiction, vampires and zombies are hot. Vampires have been with us for centuries in myths and legends and for about 200 years in their current incarnation, thanks to Poliodori and later, Bram Stoker. Zombies are, by comparison, relative new comers; the current iteration only dates back to the late 1960s and Romero’s Night of the Living Dead. But despite their shambling footsteps, they seem to be everywhere these days — movies, books, graphic novels, corporate America.
The one place zombies are conspicuously absent? Romantic leads.
You won’t find any zombies in our books, The Cowboy and the Vampire: A Darkly Romantic Mystery and Blood and Whiskey, but not because we have anything against the living dead. It’s just that they don’t really lend themselves to romance or even erotic horror. Cowboys are almost too easy with their muscles, rough hands, gentle hearts and tight blue jeans. There’s a strong case to be made for cowgirls, too. And vampires have been steaming up the pages ever since Dracula caused Lucy to get all tingly inside and the sexy vampire sisters got all up in Jonathan Harkers’ libido.
Sultry vampires, the bad boys and girls of the paranormal world, are far more conflicted, sexy and fun to work with than the current headliner — zombies. Here’s a quick run down of pluses and minuses of sexing up vampires and zombies:
-- Vampires have coffin breath and eternal bed-head. (Minus one for the undead.)
-- Zombies want you for your brains, not your body. (Plus one for the living dead.)
-- Vampires have voracious sexual appetites and the males have what we like to call “resur-erections” — they can come back from the dead again and again. (Plus one for the vampires. Make that plus two.)
-- Zombies are into the group thing – the ménage a trARRGGGGGGRRRHHHH. (Uhm, let’s say group sex is neutral.)
-- After a wild night, vampires don’t mind disappearing during the day to give you a little space. (Vampires, plus one.)
-- When zombies slip you a little tongue, you can keep it. (Ewww, minus one.)
-- Vampires leave you feeling drained, usually not in the good way. (Neutral; it’s totally worth it.)
-- Zombies have unintentionally removable appendages. That can be … awkward. (Minus one.)
-- Vampires are experienced in the ways of seduction and dark arts of pleasure. (Plus one, unless you are the jealous type, which we are, so probably minus one.)
-- Zombies tend to have much shorter life spans and forget even the basic moves, like lights out/missionary. (Minus one; shake it up a little zombies.)
-- Vampires clean up well and you can take them almost anywhere, except on a lunchtime picnic where they would likely burst into flames. (Plus one except for when they ignite, then it’s minus two.)
-- Zombies are putrefying hulks of rotting flesh and no amount of body spray can cover up that smell. (Minus one.)
If you tally it all up, you can see why vampires make it into the bedrooms of so many unsuspecting victims while zombies are left on the outside looking in ... often through the window with a bunch of their pals, groaning and leaving bloody, chunky streaks on the glass. That’s not sexy. Someone has to clean that up.
For more ... tasteful sex scenes, check out our latest book, Blood and Whiskey. You won't find any zombies, but there are plenty of sexy vampires.
A Geologist and a Cloud-Watcher Walk into a Bar …
Writing together takes advantage of the power of opposites.
(Note: this is a post we wrote for the awesome A Chick Who Readsblog and features a hand-crafted joke.)
Kathleen and I have been writing together for more than ten years now, almost as long as we’ve been together, yet we could not be more different. She’s a geologist by training and spends most of her time watching the ground for sedimentary clues. I am a chronic cloud watcher and spend most of my time with my head in the stratosphere watching for lenticular clouds (Note: Mount Hood, near our home town of Portland, is a great place to spot them).
That difference is just the tip of the iceberg. She likes to read Russian fiction; I’m more into graphic novels. Kathleen is not a big fan of music — of any kind; I can’t make it more than ten waking minutes without reaching for the iPod (the Yeah Yeah Yeahs are on in the background as I write). She’s vegan; I’m vegetarian … OK, so that’s not very different. She likes French movies with subtitles and whisper-thin plots that usually involve some sort of stolen look; I’m more of a horror/western/action movie junkie.
Those are just a few of the many differences between us, and exploring and focusing that tension makes our writing more than the sum of the parts. In our books — The Cowboy and the Vampire and Blood and Whiskey — the love between our hero and heroine mirrors the chaos and energy of our own opposites attract experiences.
Like us (Washington, DC; Whitehall, Montana), Tucker and Lizzie are from different worlds. Tucker is a down on his luck Wyoming cowboy and Lizzie is a reporter from New York. He was used to being by himself in the middle of nowhere with nothing but sagebrush and Rex, his long-suffering dog, to keep him company. Lizzie was used to the hustle and bustle of the capital of the world (sorry Paris but New York kind of is) and fighting to keep her space in a sea of people.
Their whirlwind romance, fueled by nights of scorching passion and, if they were honest with each other, a desperation born of the notion they would likely never see each other again, helped form a bond that would keep them together against seemingly insurmountable odds — and a horde of evil vampires.
In Blood and Whiskey, the differences between them only increase. Tucker has to deal with the fact that his girlfriend is suddenly the most powerful figure in the shadowy world of the vampires. Every single member of the undead tribes wants something from her, and some just want her dead. Lizzie just needs Tucker, and human blood, but can’t bring herself to kill. Or can she?
In our books, the opposites attract nature of our own relationship allows us to so easily get inside their heads. In a romance made stronger by two almost diametrically opposed world views, we found common ground in our love of writing, and it comes through in our books. Check out The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series to find out for yourself.
Oh yeah, about that joke:
So this geologist and a cloud watcher walk into a bar. The geologist says, “I’ll take a gin and tectonic.” The bartender says, “Sorry, we don’t serve your types here.” The cloud watcher shakes his head and says, “Are you cirrus?”
(Note: this is a post we wrote for the awesome A Chick Who Readsblog and features a hand-crafted joke.)
Kathleen and I have been writing together for more than ten years now, almost as long as we’ve been together, yet we could not be more different. She’s a geologist by training and spends most of her time watching the ground for sedimentary clues. I am a chronic cloud watcher and spend most of my time with my head in the stratosphere watching for lenticular clouds (Note: Mount Hood, near our home town of Portland, is a great place to spot them).
That difference is just the tip of the iceberg. She likes to read Russian fiction; I’m more into graphic novels. Kathleen is not a big fan of music — of any kind; I can’t make it more than ten waking minutes without reaching for the iPod (the Yeah Yeah Yeahs are on in the background as I write). She’s vegan; I’m vegetarian … OK, so that’s not very different. She likes French movies with subtitles and whisper-thin plots that usually involve some sort of stolen look; I’m more of a horror/western/action movie junkie.
Those are just a few of the many differences between us, and exploring and focusing that tension makes our writing more than the sum of the parts. In our books — The Cowboy and the Vampire and Blood and Whiskey — the love between our hero and heroine mirrors the chaos and energy of our own opposites attract experiences.
Like us (Washington, DC; Whitehall, Montana), Tucker and Lizzie are from different worlds. Tucker is a down on his luck Wyoming cowboy and Lizzie is a reporter from New York. He was used to being by himself in the middle of nowhere with nothing but sagebrush and Rex, his long-suffering dog, to keep him company. Lizzie was used to the hustle and bustle of the capital of the world (sorry Paris but New York kind of is) and fighting to keep her space in a sea of people.
Their whirlwind romance, fueled by nights of scorching passion and, if they were honest with each other, a desperation born of the notion they would likely never see each other again, helped form a bond that would keep them together against seemingly insurmountable odds — and a horde of evil vampires.
In Blood and Whiskey, the differences between them only increase. Tucker has to deal with the fact that his girlfriend is suddenly the most powerful figure in the shadowy world of the vampires. Every single member of the undead tribes wants something from her, and some just want her dead. Lizzie just needs Tucker, and human blood, but can’t bring herself to kill. Or can she?
In our books, the opposites attract nature of our own relationship allows us to so easily get inside their heads. In a romance made stronger by two almost diametrically opposed world views, we found common ground in our love of writing, and it comes through in our books. Check out The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series to find out for yourself.
Oh yeah, about that joke:
So this geologist and a cloud watcher walk into a bar. The geologist says, “I’ll take a gin and tectonic.” The bartender says, “Sorry, we don’t serve your types here.” The cloud watcher shakes his head and says, “Are you cirrus?”
Blood and Whiskey: Inspired by Paranoia
How one character, in particular, sets the tone for the blood- and romance-drenched second book in The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series.
Note: This is a post we wrote for the Book Lovin Mamas blog.
Blood and Whiskey is an opposites-attract love story. It’s hard to get more opposite than the salt-of-the-earth cowboy, Tucker, who falls irreversibly, hat over heels in love with Lizzie, the queen of the undead. She’s nuts about him too, and she wasn’t always a vampire — when she met Tucker she was a big city girl who thought the handsome, undereducated stranger would make for a memorable drunken mistake.
A lot can change in a few months. Now they’re pregnant, for starters.
The book captures the magic and chaos of their very different worlds colliding in a love affair for the ages. Like any new lovers, they have plenty of stuff to work through. She favors martinis and piano bars; he likes camping. He flosses too loudly; she needs human blood to survive. And that’s just the easy stuff. They are also being pursued by vampire assassins, and the world of the night walkers is teetering on the edge of civil war which could spell disaster for the human race. Plenty of action, sizzling romance and dark humor swirl around them.
With all the chemistry and passion and heartaches between them, it would be easy to assume Tucker or Lizzie provided the impetus for Blood and Whiskey. Easy, but not entirely correct. And no, it’s not Elita either, the sexy two thousand year old vampire forever taking out her boredom on unsuspecting victims in an orgy of blood and kinky sex. She demands attention, it’s true, but the secret source of paranoid energy powering Blood and Whiskey comes courtesy of Lenny.
Lenny is Tucker’s best friend and a way-off-the-grid survivalist. He once designed weapons for the military, but exposure to hazardous chemicals and dark deeds in the name of national security earned him a medical discharge.
Lenny has never met a conspiracy theory he didn’t like, from Roswell to the JFK assassination, from black helicopters to cattle mutilators. He lives in a bunker in LonePine with his wife June surrounded by enough dried meals and stockpiled weapons to last through any apocalypse. Little did he know it would spill out of a musty coffin.
In The Cowboy and the Vampire, when the evil vampire hordes threaten Lizzie’s life, Tucker turns to Lenny for help. With weapons Lenny designed and some “wet work,” they survive the worst the undead could throw at them. In Blood and Whiskey, it’s Lenny who needs help. His niece Rose, an orphan and runaway, is kidnapped from the streets of Portland, Oregon, but not before she has time to make one panicked phone call to her uncle.
Lenny calls in his favor with Tucker and they drive to Portland, then on to a deranged meat packing plant in Plush where Rose is being held.
Along the way, Lenny:
* uses military grade amphetamines to try and stay awake — they seem to have the opposite effect and Tucker has to do all of the driving
* admits that his engine modifications allow his car, an old Pontiac LeMans, to run for thousands of miles on a single tank, but worries that OPEC will kill him to suppress the invention
* threatens to “pop” an evil cowboy with a special deep sea diver’s knife designed to puff a ball of compressed air into sharks
* acknowledges that the U.S. government killed Michael Jackson with propofol
* admits that he’s seen aliens
And that’s just in the first third of the book. Things really heat up from there.
Lenny might not be one of the star-crossed main characters, and he may not be sexy or plagued by world-shaking issues of good and evil, but he knows the world “ain’t what it seems.” He always knew an Illuminati was pulling the strings, he just didn’t know the mysterious overlords were terminally allergic to sunlight.
While the love between Tucker and Lizzie anchors The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series, Lenny is the one who insisted this story to be told. Because Lenny knows that reality — when you look it straight in the eye and don’t flinch — is darker than we could ever dream and that humans are not at the top of the food chain.
Find out more about Lenny, and his pal Tucker, in Blood and Whiskey
Note: This is a post we wrote for the Book Lovin Mamas blog.
Blood and Whiskey is an opposites-attract love story. It’s hard to get more opposite than the salt-of-the-earth cowboy, Tucker, who falls irreversibly, hat over heels in love with Lizzie, the queen of the undead. She’s nuts about him too, and she wasn’t always a vampire — when she met Tucker she was a big city girl who thought the handsome, undereducated stranger would make for a memorable drunken mistake.
A lot can change in a few months. Now they’re pregnant, for starters.
The book captures the magic and chaos of their very different worlds colliding in a love affair for the ages. Like any new lovers, they have plenty of stuff to work through. She favors martinis and piano bars; he likes camping. He flosses too loudly; she needs human blood to survive. And that’s just the easy stuff. They are also being pursued by vampire assassins, and the world of the night walkers is teetering on the edge of civil war which could spell disaster for the human race. Plenty of action, sizzling romance and dark humor swirl around them.
With all the chemistry and passion and heartaches between them, it would be easy to assume Tucker or Lizzie provided the impetus for Blood and Whiskey. Easy, but not entirely correct. And no, it’s not Elita either, the sexy two thousand year old vampire forever taking out her boredom on unsuspecting victims in an orgy of blood and kinky sex. She demands attention, it’s true, but the secret source of paranoid energy powering Blood and Whiskey comes courtesy of Lenny.
Lenny is Tucker’s best friend and a way-off-the-grid survivalist. He once designed weapons for the military, but exposure to hazardous chemicals and dark deeds in the name of national security earned him a medical discharge.
Lenny has never met a conspiracy theory he didn’t like, from Roswell to the JFK assassination, from black helicopters to cattle mutilators. He lives in a bunker in LonePine with his wife June surrounded by enough dried meals and stockpiled weapons to last through any apocalypse. Little did he know it would spill out of a musty coffin.
In The Cowboy and the Vampire, when the evil vampire hordes threaten Lizzie’s life, Tucker turns to Lenny for help. With weapons Lenny designed and some “wet work,” they survive the worst the undead could throw at them. In Blood and Whiskey, it’s Lenny who needs help. His niece Rose, an orphan and runaway, is kidnapped from the streets of Portland, Oregon, but not before she has time to make one panicked phone call to her uncle.
Lenny calls in his favor with Tucker and they drive to Portland, then on to a deranged meat packing plant in Plush where Rose is being held.
Along the way, Lenny:
* uses military grade amphetamines to try and stay awake — they seem to have the opposite effect and Tucker has to do all of the driving
* admits that his engine modifications allow his car, an old Pontiac LeMans, to run for thousands of miles on a single tank, but worries that OPEC will kill him to suppress the invention
* threatens to “pop” an evil cowboy with a special deep sea diver’s knife designed to puff a ball of compressed air into sharks
* acknowledges that the U.S. government killed Michael Jackson with propofol
* admits that he’s seen aliens
And that’s just in the first third of the book. Things really heat up from there.
Lenny might not be one of the star-crossed main characters, and he may not be sexy or plagued by world-shaking issues of good and evil, but he knows the world “ain’t what it seems.” He always knew an Illuminati was pulling the strings, he just didn’t know the mysterious overlords were terminally allergic to sunlight.
While the love between Tucker and Lizzie anchors The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series, Lenny is the one who insisted this story to be told. Because Lenny knows that reality — when you look it straight in the eye and don’t flinch — is darker than we could ever dream and that humans are not at the top of the food chain.
Find out more about Lenny, and his pal Tucker, in Blood and Whiskey
Welcome to the Meta, but will you ever leave?
This week, we are talking about Near Death Experiences on our webpage and facebook page. Head on over and vote in the poll for a chance to win a free book.
And check out this post about how the Meta came to be:
Vampires have been around in popular legends for hundreds of years and in popular fiction, courtesy of Polidori and then Stoker, for more than a century. Working with such a popular archetype has its pluses — immediately resonating with readers — and minuses: tiredly expected attributes, like fangs and shrinking, hissing, from crucifixes, can feel tired. That’s why every author hopes to come up with some new take that’s still grounded in the classics.
When we began work on The Cowboy and the Vampire Thriller Series, we were intrigued by several aspects of the vampire myth: how it plugged into religion, the politics of the two castes of vampires and how could an advanced, sentient being die repeatedly — literally; we’re talking full biologic shutdown — only to be resurrected each sundown with all their memories and their personality intact. It’s that last topic that we explore more deeply in Blood and Whiskey.
Because our vampires die, fully, every dawn they have a classic near death experience every single morning. When they die, their consciousness zips off into “the Meta,” a giant energy field and external shared consciousness that contains and sustains all life. At sundown, all of those strands of energy untangle and the vampires return to their bodies once again and arise none the worse for wear. And hungry.
It’s not just for vampires though. Humans go to the Meta as well when they have a near death experience. Think of the classic NDE with the tunnel of light, meeting familiar relatives and experiencing a sense of bliss and meaning. Of course, that only happens to a very small number of people, and to some advanced mental travelers who are able to enter the Meta by meditating.
Vampires, however, enter the Meta every single day.
The concept of the Meta, and what it means for human spirituality, is resonating. In their review of Blood and Whiskey, Kirkus Reviews says:
“While a number of existentialist underpinnings give the series some depth, the book is first and foremost a thriller, upping the ante in every chapter as bullets fly and relationships strain under the weight of old loyalties and new revelations. In a way, it’s a shame more time isn’t spent exploring the existence of this meta world where consciousnesses wait out the daylight hours and immortality has all sorts of ramifications for human spirituality. But with strong writing, funny characters (no irony is lost on one vampiress who takes to sporting a “Future Farmers of America” jacket) and plenty of action, it’s hard to fault the authors for keeping the focus on a story this riveting.”
We agree, and are definitely spending more time in the Meta in book three (we are hard at work on it), but Blood and Whiskey has a huge focus on this new take on the afterlife (and the before and during life as well) based on morphic fields.
Here are a few quotes and sections from Blood and Whiskey that deal with the Meta:
Page 46
After all they shared it was hard to believe Julius was really dead. Lizzie still refused to discuss the details of what happened that night, saying only that she had taken care of the situation. Elita knew he was dead though. She felt his force wither away and bleed into the Meta, smelled and saw his blood on Lizzie’s breath and felt it coursing within her.
Page 65
Lizzie struggled to climb out of what felt like an endless, undifferentiated and always terrifying, darkness. Elita promised her it would get easier, being reborn anew every night, and that soon she’d find her place in the darkness — the Meta — and sense others there too. Not their bodies or their voices, not like in the ghost stories of humans, but their essence, able to feel the part of them that existed after death, the part that existed underneath life. For now, it was all a jumble and still disconcerting.
Page 231
There was a flash of ruby incandescence that erupted from where their blood mingled, growing in power and then consuming her and catapulting her thoughts out of her body. She swirled up into the arch of the sky and beyond, slamming into Virote’s soul on the way. They intertwined, joining together as one, their consciousness and experience of sensations now singular and shared, gloriously rushing along a tunnel of light, spiritual adrenaline flowing, radiant and free.
Page 280
As the sun dropped below the horizon, life flooded back into Lizzie and she sat up with a gasp. Her once dead lungs labored anew as her heart began to beat and formless, racing thoughts reorganized into ‘Lizzie,’ a unique body separate from the Meta. But tonight, as death retreated again into the night, a raw and unexpected power coursed through her dusty veins.
Page 280
A Vampire was present; several, actually, but one was particularly strong. She could feel them all re-inhabiting their bodies as well, their energies so recently intertwined in the Meta now separating back into distinct individuals. Humans too, evil humans; she could taste their corpuscles circulating underneath their skin as they walked around encased in evil and she hungered for them.
Page 284
She closed her eyes again, centering herself and letting energy from the Meta flow through her. Where had it been these last few days? She could feel them approaching, could feel the surge in adrenaline and testosterone, could even feel the blood engorging the penises of her assailants.
Page 319
Lizzie looked at him incredulously. “You seriously never, ever listen to me Tucker,” she said. “I’ve told you about this a hundred times; what it’s like, where our thoughts go, our consciousness, our sense of self, when we die.”
Page 323
“I saw your mother,” Dad said. “She’s waiting for me. In the Metro or whatever it’s called.”
If these have you wondering more about the Meta, check out The Cowboy and The Vampire and Blood and Whiskey for insights into a new and decidedly undead take on spirituality.
And check out this post about how the Meta came to be:
Vampires have been around in popular legends for hundreds of years and in popular fiction, courtesy of Polidori and then Stoker, for more than a century. Working with such a popular archetype has its pluses — immediately resonating with readers — and minuses: tiredly expected attributes, like fangs and shrinking, hissing, from crucifixes, can feel tired. That’s why every author hopes to come up with some new take that’s still grounded in the classics.
When we began work on The Cowboy and the Vampire Thriller Series, we were intrigued by several aspects of the vampire myth: how it plugged into religion, the politics of the two castes of vampires and how could an advanced, sentient being die repeatedly — literally; we’re talking full biologic shutdown — only to be resurrected each sundown with all their memories and their personality intact. It’s that last topic that we explore more deeply in Blood and Whiskey.
Because our vampires die, fully, every dawn they have a classic near death experience every single morning. When they die, their consciousness zips off into “the Meta,” a giant energy field and external shared consciousness that contains and sustains all life. At sundown, all of those strands of energy untangle and the vampires return to their bodies once again and arise none the worse for wear. And hungry.
It’s not just for vampires though. Humans go to the Meta as well when they have a near death experience. Think of the classic NDE with the tunnel of light, meeting familiar relatives and experiencing a sense of bliss and meaning. Of course, that only happens to a very small number of people, and to some advanced mental travelers who are able to enter the Meta by meditating.
Vampires, however, enter the Meta every single day.
The concept of the Meta, and what it means for human spirituality, is resonating. In their review of Blood and Whiskey, Kirkus Reviews says:
“While a number of existentialist underpinnings give the series some depth, the book is first and foremost a thriller, upping the ante in every chapter as bullets fly and relationships strain under the weight of old loyalties and new revelations. In a way, it’s a shame more time isn’t spent exploring the existence of this meta world where consciousnesses wait out the daylight hours and immortality has all sorts of ramifications for human spirituality. But with strong writing, funny characters (no irony is lost on one vampiress who takes to sporting a “Future Farmers of America” jacket) and plenty of action, it’s hard to fault the authors for keeping the focus on a story this riveting.”
We agree, and are definitely spending more time in the Meta in book three (we are hard at work on it), but Blood and Whiskey has a huge focus on this new take on the afterlife (and the before and during life as well) based on morphic fields.
Here are a few quotes and sections from Blood and Whiskey that deal with the Meta:
Page 46
After all they shared it was hard to believe Julius was really dead. Lizzie still refused to discuss the details of what happened that night, saying only that she had taken care of the situation. Elita knew he was dead though. She felt his force wither away and bleed into the Meta, smelled and saw his blood on Lizzie’s breath and felt it coursing within her.
Page 65
Lizzie struggled to climb out of what felt like an endless, undifferentiated and always terrifying, darkness. Elita promised her it would get easier, being reborn anew every night, and that soon she’d find her place in the darkness — the Meta — and sense others there too. Not their bodies or their voices, not like in the ghost stories of humans, but their essence, able to feel the part of them that existed after death, the part that existed underneath life. For now, it was all a jumble and still disconcerting.
Page 231
There was a flash of ruby incandescence that erupted from where their blood mingled, growing in power and then consuming her and catapulting her thoughts out of her body. She swirled up into the arch of the sky and beyond, slamming into Virote’s soul on the way. They intertwined, joining together as one, their consciousness and experience of sensations now singular and shared, gloriously rushing along a tunnel of light, spiritual adrenaline flowing, radiant and free.
Page 280
As the sun dropped below the horizon, life flooded back into Lizzie and she sat up with a gasp. Her once dead lungs labored anew as her heart began to beat and formless, racing thoughts reorganized into ‘Lizzie,’ a unique body separate from the Meta. But tonight, as death retreated again into the night, a raw and unexpected power coursed through her dusty veins.
Page 280
A Vampire was present; several, actually, but one was particularly strong. She could feel them all re-inhabiting their bodies as well, their energies so recently intertwined in the Meta now separating back into distinct individuals. Humans too, evil humans; she could taste their corpuscles circulating underneath their skin as they walked around encased in evil and she hungered for them.
Page 284
She closed her eyes again, centering herself and letting energy from the Meta flow through her. Where had it been these last few days? She could feel them approaching, could feel the surge in adrenaline and testosterone, could even feel the blood engorging the penises of her assailants.
Page 319
Lizzie looked at him incredulously. “You seriously never, ever listen to me Tucker,” she said. “I’ve told you about this a hundred times; what it’s like, where our thoughts go, our consciousness, our sense of self, when we die.”
Page 323
“I saw your mother,” Dad said. “She’s waiting for me. In the Metro or whatever it’s called.”
If these have you wondering more about the Meta, check out The Cowboy and The Vampire and Blood and Whiskey for insights into a new and decidedly undead take on spirituality.
Welcome to LonePine, Wyoming, population 438
It’s like any other small, slowly dying town in the modern American west, only with vampires.
Note: This is a post Kathleen McFall and I wrote for the awesome Book Chick City blog. It's British, which makes us international celebrity wannabes.
Cut off from the rest of the world by miles of open range and rugged snow-capped mountains, LonePine is the quintessential American western town: the county fair and rodeo is still the biggest social event of the year, crusty old ranchers drive to town at sun-up for breakfast — waving at every pickup truck they pass because there are no strangers — and it’s not unusual to see a horse or two tethered outside the Watering Hole, the town’s favorite saloon. Not much has changed there in a hundred years … until then the undead ride into town.
The first vampire to visit LonePine (at least in THIS century: Red Winter) is Lizzie Vaughn, a beautiful, ambitious reporter from New York who falls hard for Tucker, a down-on-his-luck cowboy born and raised in LonePine. From opposite worlds to begin with, their relationship takes a turn for the paranormal when they learn Lizzie is a latent vampire.
Worse, a special power courses through her veins and the entire undead world wants to either control it, or eliminate her entirely. The ensuing clash of urban and rural cultures — between star-crossed lovers and between good and evil forces — is at the heart of The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series.
Fittingly, we came up with the concept for The Cowboy and the Vampire , the first book in the series, in 1999 at a rural western truckstop in the high desert town of Madras, Oregon. We were trying to rekindle our own relationship and the worlds-collide storyline (Kathleen is from Washington, D.C., and Clark was raised in Montana), along with the macabre and gothic elements, fit the moment and our personalities. And the decision to anchor the series in the modern American west tapped into our shared love of the region and the myths that sustain it.
People are fundamentally shaped by their environment, and that is especially evident for those hailing from the western U.S. Cowboy country covers thousands of square miles, from northern Montana down through southern Arizona, from eastern Oregon to western Nebraska, and everything in between. People who live in the west tend to value silence and space because their nearest neighbor may be ten miles away, their daytime view is uninterrupted by buildings all the way out to the craggy mountain peaks along the horizon and at night, most westerners can hear coyotes or wolves (if they are lucky) beneath clear, starry skies.
The west we love is a place where people can be alone with nature and their thoughts, which is why our books feature a distinctive element — a wide open spirituality that’s as big as the west and linked to vampires: the Meta. Along with the expected characteristics of the undead — insatiable blood lust, solar mortality — our vampires die every dawn, completely. That means they have a never-ending series of near death experiences as their souls, their consciousnesses, go racing of into the Meta. The Meta is an external shared consciousness, like a giant energy field, where humans and vampires alike exist before and after death. Experiencing the Meta, just like humans who “come back” after death, gives one a profound sense of calmness, certainty and belonging.
That uncluttered confidence is common in the west, which gets to the heart of the region as an ideal, tangling up history with the golden myths of movie screen cowboys and pulp fiction heroes. Those who settled the frontier were tough, resilient and independent, characteristics which earned them a permanent place in the national, and even international, psyche. Hollywood added a sheen that mostly canceled out any of the negatives associated with life in a hard time — the brutality and cruelty and greed; they were human, after all — until the historic cowboy became an icon and a symbol of all that’s good and right in the world. And the perfect foil for the time-tested symbols of evil, corruption and decadence — vampires.
Of course, nothing is ever exactly what it seems in LonePine — cowboys are not always heroes and vampires are not always villains. The only thing that’s certain is that romance is always hard. We hope you’ll take the time to visit LonePine and meet some of the cowboys, cowgirls, survivalists, ranchers, barmaids, vampires and overly sensitive cowdogs that make it a funny, sexy and scary destination.
Check out Blood and Whiskey to learn more about the Meta and the wide open, wild and undead West.
Note: This is a post Kathleen McFall and I wrote for the awesome Book Chick City blog. It's British, which makes us international celebrity wannabes.
Cut off from the rest of the world by miles of open range and rugged snow-capped mountains, LonePine is the quintessential American western town: the county fair and rodeo is still the biggest social event of the year, crusty old ranchers drive to town at sun-up for breakfast — waving at every pickup truck they pass because there are no strangers — and it’s not unusual to see a horse or two tethered outside the Watering Hole, the town’s favorite saloon. Not much has changed there in a hundred years … until then the undead ride into town.
The first vampire to visit LonePine (at least in THIS century: Red Winter) is Lizzie Vaughn, a beautiful, ambitious reporter from New York who falls hard for Tucker, a down-on-his-luck cowboy born and raised in LonePine. From opposite worlds to begin with, their relationship takes a turn for the paranormal when they learn Lizzie is a latent vampire.
Worse, a special power courses through her veins and the entire undead world wants to either control it, or eliminate her entirely. The ensuing clash of urban and rural cultures — between star-crossed lovers and between good and evil forces — is at the heart of The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series.
Fittingly, we came up with the concept for The Cowboy and the Vampire , the first book in the series, in 1999 at a rural western truckstop in the high desert town of Madras, Oregon. We were trying to rekindle our own relationship and the worlds-collide storyline (Kathleen is from Washington, D.C., and Clark was raised in Montana), along with the macabre and gothic elements, fit the moment and our personalities. And the decision to anchor the series in the modern American west tapped into our shared love of the region and the myths that sustain it.
People are fundamentally shaped by their environment, and that is especially evident for those hailing from the western U.S. Cowboy country covers thousands of square miles, from northern Montana down through southern Arizona, from eastern Oregon to western Nebraska, and everything in between. People who live in the west tend to value silence and space because their nearest neighbor may be ten miles away, their daytime view is uninterrupted by buildings all the way out to the craggy mountain peaks along the horizon and at night, most westerners can hear coyotes or wolves (if they are lucky) beneath clear, starry skies.
The west we love is a place where people can be alone with nature and their thoughts, which is why our books feature a distinctive element — a wide open spirituality that’s as big as the west and linked to vampires: the Meta. Along with the expected characteristics of the undead — insatiable blood lust, solar mortality — our vampires die every dawn, completely. That means they have a never-ending series of near death experiences as their souls, their consciousnesses, go racing of into the Meta. The Meta is an external shared consciousness, like a giant energy field, where humans and vampires alike exist before and after death. Experiencing the Meta, just like humans who “come back” after death, gives one a profound sense of calmness, certainty and belonging.
That uncluttered confidence is common in the west, which gets to the heart of the region as an ideal, tangling up history with the golden myths of movie screen cowboys and pulp fiction heroes. Those who settled the frontier were tough, resilient and independent, characteristics which earned them a permanent place in the national, and even international, psyche. Hollywood added a sheen that mostly canceled out any of the negatives associated with life in a hard time — the brutality and cruelty and greed; they were human, after all — until the historic cowboy became an icon and a symbol of all that’s good and right in the world. And the perfect foil for the time-tested symbols of evil, corruption and decadence — vampires.
Of course, nothing is ever exactly what it seems in LonePine — cowboys are not always heroes and vampires are not always villains. The only thing that’s certain is that romance is always hard. We hope you’ll take the time to visit LonePine and meet some of the cowboys, cowgirls, survivalists, ranchers, barmaids, vampires and overly sensitive cowdogs that make it a funny, sexy and scary destination.
Check out Blood and Whiskey to learn more about the Meta and the wide open, wild and undead West.
Bugging Out with the Cast of Blood and Whiskey
Any self-respecting prepper keeps a bug-out bag loaded with survival gear near the door, and the characters from The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series are definitely used to dealing with the worst.
The rationale behind a bug-out bag is simple — it’s a backpack or some other form of personal conveyance loaded with all the stuff necessary to survive the first few days after some kind of catastrophic event. Say a meteor hits — doesn’t seem so unlikely now, does it Russia? — or there’s a huge, city-leveling earthquake or solar flares disrupt earth communications and turn half the population into solar zombies. Whatever the cause, when (not if) disaster strikes, a bug-out bag provides careful planners with a head start that won’t be enjoyed by his or her neighbors who will be wandering around wringing their hands and wondering what to do. And probably becoming zombie food.A bug-out bag is basically the first step of survival 101. A typical starter bag might have some waterproof matches, a pocket knife, a couple of ponchos and a few granola bars. Moving up the scale of sophistication, start thinking about adding a first aid kid, some duct tape and a water purifier.
We have a modest bug out bag. And so do the characters from our books, The Cowboy and the Vampire and Blood and Whiskey. Here’s a rundown of what our characters keep close at hand for when the Juan de Fuca plate drops open and a tsunami wipes out half of the west.
Tucker: He’s a tough, resourceful, perpetually-broke cowboy living in LonePine, Wyoming who falls for a vampire (Lizzie). His bug-out bag, kept in a pair of saddlebags in his truck, is pretty simple:
* Duct tape
* A folding knife
* A pair of fencing pliers (sort of the cowboy multi-tool)
* A bottle of whiskey
* A bag of snack cakes with enough preservatives to withstand the end of times
Lizzie: She’s a newly turned vampire queen in love with a cowboy (Tucker). Her bug out bag, though she would be loathe to admit she has one, is focused more on intellectual rather than physical survival. Now that she’s a vampire, she could survive just about anything anyway, except for direct sunlight, which is why she only keeps a few things in her purse:
* A copy of Anna Karenina
* A notebook and three pens
* A juice box of blood
* A body bag (in case she gets caught out doors at dawn
* A corkscrew (hopefully there will be wine after the apocalypse)
Lenny: He’s Tucker’s best friend and a way-off-the-grid-survivalist who practically invented the concept of bug out bags. He lives in a hidden bunker with stockpiles of guns, ammo and freeze dried meals. But Lenny, who has never met a conspiracy theory he didn’t like, knows all too well that a single bunker-buster dropped from a drone would leave him homeless. That’s why he has a bug-out bag by the exit of the escape tunnel from his bunker. Actually, it’s more like a bug-out trunk, with a bug out bag in it, as well as:
* Shelf-stable food and water for five days
* A collapsible assault rifle with 500 round of ammo
* A Geiger counter
* A first aid kit and mobile surgical operating suite
* Bio waste bags
* A hand crank power generator
* Solar chargers
* An emergency radio
* Lanterns
* Flares
* A kindle loaded with every how-to book ever printed
* A tool kit, U.S. and metric
* Fire starter tablets and matches
* A wire saw
* A tent
* Sleeping pads
* Night vision goggles
* A collapsible commuter bike
* A water filtration system
* Much more
Elita: She’s a sexy, powerful vampire who has lived through all manner of catastrophes. No matter the challenge, from feuding vampire species to angry villagers with torches, she always lands on her feet. It doesn’t hurt that she’s painfully beautiful and sexually insatiable. Her bug out bag fits neatly in one pocket:
* Lipstick
* A matching bra and panty set
* A fresh pack of clove cigarettes, but no matches— she can always find someone else to light them
With all the bad stuff going on in the world, a focus on self-reliance is on the upswing and blissful ignorance is waning. People are taking survival preparation more seriously — there’s even a show about it — and after a few killer storms, it doesn’t seem quite so crazy these days to hope for the best and prepare for the worst.
Some people choose to assemble their own bug-out bags, others buy them fully assembled online to save the time. No matter the source, one thing is clear, no bug-out bag is complete without a copy of The Cowboy and the Vampire and Blood and Whiskey. It can get mighty boring in a nuclear winter, so bring some good books. Actually bring a couple copies. They can be bartered for supplies.
The rationale behind a bug-out bag is simple — it’s a backpack or some other form of personal conveyance loaded with all the stuff necessary to survive the first few days after some kind of catastrophic event. Say a meteor hits — doesn’t seem so unlikely now, does it Russia? — or there’s a huge, city-leveling earthquake or solar flares disrupt earth communications and turn half the population into solar zombies. Whatever the cause, when (not if) disaster strikes, a bug-out bag provides careful planners with a head start that won’t be enjoyed by his or her neighbors who will be wandering around wringing their hands and wondering what to do. And probably becoming zombie food.A bug-out bag is basically the first step of survival 101. A typical starter bag might have some waterproof matches, a pocket knife, a couple of ponchos and a few granola bars. Moving up the scale of sophistication, start thinking about adding a first aid kid, some duct tape and a water purifier.
We have a modest bug out bag. And so do the characters from our books, The Cowboy and the Vampire and Blood and Whiskey. Here’s a rundown of what our characters keep close at hand for when the Juan de Fuca plate drops open and a tsunami wipes out half of the west.
Tucker: He’s a tough, resourceful, perpetually-broke cowboy living in LonePine, Wyoming who falls for a vampire (Lizzie). His bug-out bag, kept in a pair of saddlebags in his truck, is pretty simple:
* Duct tape
* A folding knife
* A pair of fencing pliers (sort of the cowboy multi-tool)
* A bottle of whiskey
* A bag of snack cakes with enough preservatives to withstand the end of times
Lizzie: She’s a newly turned vampire queen in love with a cowboy (Tucker). Her bug out bag, though she would be loathe to admit she has one, is focused more on intellectual rather than physical survival. Now that she’s a vampire, she could survive just about anything anyway, except for direct sunlight, which is why she only keeps a few things in her purse:
* A copy of Anna Karenina
* A notebook and three pens
* A juice box of blood
* A body bag (in case she gets caught out doors at dawn
* A corkscrew (hopefully there will be wine after the apocalypse)
Lenny: He’s Tucker’s best friend and a way-off-the-grid-survivalist who practically invented the concept of bug out bags. He lives in a hidden bunker with stockpiles of guns, ammo and freeze dried meals. But Lenny, who has never met a conspiracy theory he didn’t like, knows all too well that a single bunker-buster dropped from a drone would leave him homeless. That’s why he has a bug-out bag by the exit of the escape tunnel from his bunker. Actually, it’s more like a bug-out trunk, with a bug out bag in it, as well as:
* Shelf-stable food and water for five days
* A collapsible assault rifle with 500 round of ammo
* A Geiger counter
* A first aid kit and mobile surgical operating suite
* Bio waste bags
* A hand crank power generator
* Solar chargers
* An emergency radio
* Lanterns
* Flares
* A kindle loaded with every how-to book ever printed
* A tool kit, U.S. and metric
* Fire starter tablets and matches
* A wire saw
* A tent
* Sleeping pads
* Night vision goggles
* A collapsible commuter bike
* A water filtration system
* Much more
Elita: She’s a sexy, powerful vampire who has lived through all manner of catastrophes. No matter the challenge, from feuding vampire species to angry villagers with torches, she always lands on her feet. It doesn’t hurt that she’s painfully beautiful and sexually insatiable. Her bug out bag fits neatly in one pocket:
* Lipstick
* A matching bra and panty set
* A fresh pack of clove cigarettes, but no matches— she can always find someone else to light them
With all the bad stuff going on in the world, a focus on self-reliance is on the upswing and blissful ignorance is waning. People are taking survival preparation more seriously — there’s even a show about it — and after a few killer storms, it doesn’t seem quite so crazy these days to hope for the best and prepare for the worst.
Some people choose to assemble their own bug-out bags, others buy them fully assembled online to save the time. No matter the source, one thing is clear, no bug-out bag is complete without a copy of The Cowboy and the Vampire and Blood and Whiskey. It can get mighty boring in a nuclear winter, so bring some good books. Actually bring a couple copies. They can be bartered for supplies.
Possessed: Evil Dolls and Mojitos
Discovering the Dark Side of a tropical paradise
One of the great things about writing paranormal fiction (The Cowboy and the Vampire, Blood and Whiskey and the soon-to-be-released book three, which is getting closer) is that we get to do fun, weird stuff on a regular basis.
Case and point: We were recently in Key West on a well-deserved vacation. The weather was beautiful, the booze was flowing on Duval Street and while most people were dancing and laughing and enjoying another perfect sunset, we were on the “trolley of the doomed” touring the most haunted places on the island. And for a tiny island, there are a LOT of haunted places.
As a general rule, places get haunted because of some horrible event that occurred there in the past like murders or mass graves — there’s not a lot of ghosts skulking about the site of the “happiest tea party ever.” But one of the scariest stories we heard had nothing to do with crimes of passion — it was about a doll. Robert the Doll, to be precise — a creepy little life-sized figure in a sailor suit possessed by evil spirits that has become a local celebrity for his ghostly hijinks.
The doll was given to one Robert Eugene Otto, a little boy in Key West, when he was four. The year was 1906 and the doll was made for him by his nanny, a woman from the Bahamas said to be skilled in the black arts. She gave dressed the doll in a suit of Roberts’s clothes and gave it to him just about the time she was fired from the family. Perhaps because of the termination, she probably added a curse as well.
The boy quickly bonded with the doll and even officially gave it his own name, Robert, going by Eugene for the rest of his life. It was no biggie, boys play with dolls all the time — GI Joe was a doll, when you think it about it — but then things got weird.
His parents overheard their son conversing with someone, and that someone had a high, unfamiliar voice, but when they entered the room there was no one was there but the boy and the doll. When they asked, Eugene freely admitted Robert talked to him all the time.
Then furniture started breaking and of course, Eugene blamed it on Robert the Doll. They would find clothes mysteriously be strewn across the floor in all the rooms, and again Robert got the blame. They even heard footsteps, tiny footsteps, in empty rooms … empty save for Robert, who seemed to glare at them from wherever he was propped.
One day, Eugene’s mom came home and all the servants were locked out and a tearful Eugene told her Robert did it. She’d had enough. She locked Robert the Doll away in an unused turret in the house (we drove by it and it actually looks like a turret). Eugene seemingly forgot about the doll and went off to Europe, married a beautiful young lady and brought her back to Key West where he was developing a reputation as an author and a painter. And, as it turned out, as a kook.
He informed his wife that Robert the Doll would be seated at the dining table with them for meals, and had a bed placed into their bedroom so Robert could sleep next to them. Things get a little hazy after that, the intimacies of their peculiar marriage — and details of possibly the creepiest ménage a trois of all time — remain shrouded from history.
But the story picks up again years after Eugene dies. A new family buys the house, Robert the Doll is rediscovered in a dusty closet and a little girl, initially delighted, is probably scarred for life when her doll soon gets up to his old tricks — creating mischief, running around, talking to her and, it would seem, threatening to kill her in her sleep. (She’s been interviewed many times sense and swears the doll was alive.)
Her family was much quicker to act, donating Robert the Doll to the Key West historical society. The armchair historians were happy to accept such a well-preserved relic of the past. Only Robert the Doll refused to stay still. They locked him up safely under glass, but according to the staff, they sometimes find him in different positions inside his transparent prison. Impossible, of course, they admit, but it’s happened. Some have even heard him scampering around the old building late at night and have seen tiny, improbable footprints on the dusty floor or tiny smudges as if from ill-formed hands inside the glass.
One thing is clear, they said — folks who take his picture without asking first his permission are almost certain fall victim to his curse. The wall behind his exhibit is papered with letters from folks around the country and the world attesting to the misfortune that befell them after snapping his picture without asking.
We took no chances on the picture we took.
There’s one more thing. The tour guide handed out EMF meters so we could test the area for paranormal activity. There were six meters and five of them registered absolutely nothing. The sixth, however, was lighting up like a Christmas tree whenever the woman carried it to close to Robert.
An hour later, we let the spirits in our mojitos possess us and tried to get the image of that creepy little doll out of our minds. It took several before we were successful.
If you are ever in Key West, be sure and visit Robert the Doll. But be respectful. And try a mojito.
(You can check out a picture we took of the creepy little bastard on our website: http://cowboyandvampire.com)
One of the great things about writing paranormal fiction (The Cowboy and the Vampire, Blood and Whiskey and the soon-to-be-released book three, which is getting closer) is that we get to do fun, weird stuff on a regular basis.
Case and point: We were recently in Key West on a well-deserved vacation. The weather was beautiful, the booze was flowing on Duval Street and while most people were dancing and laughing and enjoying another perfect sunset, we were on the “trolley of the doomed” touring the most haunted places on the island. And for a tiny island, there are a LOT of haunted places.
As a general rule, places get haunted because of some horrible event that occurred there in the past like murders or mass graves — there’s not a lot of ghosts skulking about the site of the “happiest tea party ever.” But one of the scariest stories we heard had nothing to do with crimes of passion — it was about a doll. Robert the Doll, to be precise — a creepy little life-sized figure in a sailor suit possessed by evil spirits that has become a local celebrity for his ghostly hijinks.
The doll was given to one Robert Eugene Otto, a little boy in Key West, when he was four. The year was 1906 and the doll was made for him by his nanny, a woman from the Bahamas said to be skilled in the black arts. She gave dressed the doll in a suit of Roberts’s clothes and gave it to him just about the time she was fired from the family. Perhaps because of the termination, she probably added a curse as well.
The boy quickly bonded with the doll and even officially gave it his own name, Robert, going by Eugene for the rest of his life. It was no biggie, boys play with dolls all the time — GI Joe was a doll, when you think it about it — but then things got weird.
His parents overheard their son conversing with someone, and that someone had a high, unfamiliar voice, but when they entered the room there was no one was there but the boy and the doll. When they asked, Eugene freely admitted Robert talked to him all the time.
Then furniture started breaking and of course, Eugene blamed it on Robert the Doll. They would find clothes mysteriously be strewn across the floor in all the rooms, and again Robert got the blame. They even heard footsteps, tiny footsteps, in empty rooms … empty save for Robert, who seemed to glare at them from wherever he was propped.
One day, Eugene’s mom came home and all the servants were locked out and a tearful Eugene told her Robert did it. She’d had enough. She locked Robert the Doll away in an unused turret in the house (we drove by it and it actually looks like a turret). Eugene seemingly forgot about the doll and went off to Europe, married a beautiful young lady and brought her back to Key West where he was developing a reputation as an author and a painter. And, as it turned out, as a kook.
He informed his wife that Robert the Doll would be seated at the dining table with them for meals, and had a bed placed into their bedroom so Robert could sleep next to them. Things get a little hazy after that, the intimacies of their peculiar marriage — and details of possibly the creepiest ménage a trois of all time — remain shrouded from history.
But the story picks up again years after Eugene dies. A new family buys the house, Robert the Doll is rediscovered in a dusty closet and a little girl, initially delighted, is probably scarred for life when her doll soon gets up to his old tricks — creating mischief, running around, talking to her and, it would seem, threatening to kill her in her sleep. (She’s been interviewed many times sense and swears the doll was alive.)
Her family was much quicker to act, donating Robert the Doll to the Key West historical society. The armchair historians were happy to accept such a well-preserved relic of the past. Only Robert the Doll refused to stay still. They locked him up safely under glass, but according to the staff, they sometimes find him in different positions inside his transparent prison. Impossible, of course, they admit, but it’s happened. Some have even heard him scampering around the old building late at night and have seen tiny, improbable footprints on the dusty floor or tiny smudges as if from ill-formed hands inside the glass.
One thing is clear, they said — folks who take his picture without asking first his permission are almost certain fall victim to his curse. The wall behind his exhibit is papered with letters from folks around the country and the world attesting to the misfortune that befell them after snapping his picture without asking.
We took no chances on the picture we took.
There’s one more thing. The tour guide handed out EMF meters so we could test the area for paranormal activity. There were six meters and five of them registered absolutely nothing. The sixth, however, was lighting up like a Christmas tree whenever the woman carried it to close to Robert.
An hour later, we let the spirits in our mojitos possess us and tried to get the image of that creepy little doll out of our minds. It took several before we were successful.
If you are ever in Key West, be sure and visit Robert the Doll. But be respectful. And try a mojito.
(You can check out a picture we took of the creepy little bastard on our website: http://cowboyandvampire.com)
